


Tic tic...

by sheismessy_butsheskind



Category: Bandstand - Oberacker/Oberacker & Taylor
Genre: I like to make Wayne suffer, I’m so sorry, M/M, OCD, PTSD, anxiety attack warning, no I’m not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 11:30:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17099774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheismessy_butsheskind/pseuds/sheismessy_butsheskind
Summary: Wayne’s been through a lot since he’s been back from the war. No one else knows how much. They all mean well and they all try to help him but... how could they?





	Tic tic...

**Author's Note:**

> The OCD described in this fic is based on my own personal experience living with OCD. *I don’t speak for everyone who suffers from OCD.* I tried not to project onto Wayne and used references and symptoms I found while watching the show. I went through several edits and found this version to be the most accurate.
> 
> Also: The term PTSD was not popularized until the mid to late 1970s and did not appear in the diagnostic manual of mental disorders until 1980. I used the term that were popular at the time, “battle fatigue.” The term held the same meaning that PTSD holds now, even though symptoms and how it gets diagnosed has evolved along with the usage of the new term.

*Tic*

 

 

His head twisted down and to the right and his eyes snapped shut.

 

 

*Tic*

 

 

*Tic*

 

 

He had no control over it. He wanted it* to stop. But he couldn’t even begin to imagine* how he would. His tics weren’t aggressive, just* abrupt.

 

Start one tic to stop another. He began biting his finger nails. They weren’t long enough to bite so he settled for the skin around them.

 

He began to bleed. He got up and went to the bathroom. Washed his hands* three times. Once to get the dirt off, once to wash his hands, and once to get them clean. The water stung on the open wound* but he didn’t care. Took out a bandaid* and pressed it on hard. Walked back to the living room and sat down.

 

 

*Tic*

 

 

He started to wring his hands.

 

Nick walked out from his bedroom.

“Wayne. Your schedule dictates we leave in two.” He put on his coat and grabbed his trumpet.

Wayne looked at him, stood up and they walked out the door.

They walked to rehearsal in silence, which wasn’t unusual, but this time the silence felt thicker. Wayne kept his eyes on the ground the whole time.

“You okay?” Nick raised an eyebrow.

“Fine.” His voice was flat. He couldn’t head tic in front of Nick so he defaulted to a fourth one. He started licking and chewing at his lips. He needed something, anything, to take back his mind. Rehearsal should work...

 

Except at rehearsal his hands fidgeted the whole time. He could hardly focus on anything. As soon as he walked in the door Johnny took one look at him and said,

“Whoa, you alright bud?”

“Perfectly fine.” and he brushed right passed him.

Say what you want about Johnny but he could read facial expressions quicker and more accurately than any man.

Rehearsal went on as usual for most of the band. Davy was oblivious to everything, simultaneously drunk and hungover from the night before. Jimmy leaned over during a water break and asked,

“Wayne, are you doing alright?”

“Yeah.” He wanted to say more... but.

Jimmy waited for the “but,” but it never came. He gave Wayne a nod and let it be. He knew what it was like, never wanting anyone to pry. He hoped that whatever was on Wayne’s mind would pass, however difficult he knew that would be. By the end of rehearsal Julia cautiously approached him and began,

“Wayne... is everything okay? You seem really out of it.”

“I’m fine,” Wayne contested with a rapid pace. “Why does everyone keep asking? I’m fine.*”

He stood there a moment, blinking; turned ninety degrees, and walked away.

Julia saw the tic, she knew he wasn’t okay. She had never seen him this high strung before but was unfamiliar with his triggers. He had been through too much in the months since he’d been back to have this weighing on him too. Donny pulled at her sleeve dragging her head back to the surface and the two of them left behind the rest of the band.

When Nick and Wayne returned home Nick threw his coat off and placed his trumpet at the door. Wayne hung up his coat, walked over to where Nick’s was and hung it up next to his own.*

He kept his hands on it and took a deep breath.

He picked up the trumpet case, put it in the closet* and set his trombone next to it. He sat on the couch* chewing his lip and wringing his hands.

 

He bounced his leg.*

 

His eyes darted around the room.

 

He began to pace; to the left four steps, about face. To the right four steps, about face. Left, about. Right, about. Left right left right- *

 

He stood in the middle of the room.

 

He chewed his finger.*

 

His breathing was heavy.

 

Nick walked back into the room looking at a take-out menu. “There’s nothing in the house, how do you feel about pizza?”

He looked up. Wayne didn’t move.

“Wayne? Wayne... Hey, Wayne.”

Nothing.

He approached and tapped his shoulder from behind. Wayne let out a cry and dropped to the floor. He was shaking* and tears were streaming* down his face. “Shit,” Nick mumbled under his breath. He threw the take-out menu and dropped right next to him. “Shit shit shitshitshit. Wayne. C’mon bud. I’m sorry, please.”

Wayne’s breathing was hard. It sounded like he was choking. Every so often he’d let out a small whimper trying to catch his breath. The shaking got more violent the longer he went without air.

“Wayne, talk to me. Look at me- anything. WAYNE.”

“Huh-- I- I- I c- ca- can’t.”

“Can’t what,” he objected.

Wayne shook his head.

Nick let out a hard breath. “Okay, we’re gonna do this. We’re getting through this.”

“I can’t-“ his voice shook so much Nick could barely understand him.

“Yes you can, keep talking to me.”

“M- mm- make it s- stop” he whimpered.

“I’m trying,” Nick lamented under his breath. “Can I touch you-“

“ _NO_ ”

“-okay okay, I won’t. Ahh...” his mind was racing while a thought dawned on him. He spoke rapidly. “What about this, can you sit up for me, hm?”

Wayne didn’t respond right away. Eventually he lifted his head off the carpet. His vision was blurred from the tears.

“That’s it, that’s good. Just a little bit more.”

Wayne sat up tentatively so he was on his calves, hands pressed to the floor. He still shook. He still couldn’t breath.

“There ya go.” Nick kept his gaze on Wayne like a hawk. His mouth was slightly agape with wide eyes that held back tears of their own. He had no idea what he was doing.

Wayne’s breath came back to him in short gasping bursts. He viscously tried blinking the tears from his eyes. He looked up at Nick, helpless, scrunched up his face and just began sobbing, violently. But not like before. This sobbing felt like Wayne had some sort of control over it. He slumped to the side and buried his head in his hands.

Nick didn’t know what to make of the situation. He got up, filled a glass of water and sat back down placing it on the carpet in front of Wayne. He was so quiet that Wayne didn’t know it had happened until a few minutes later when he opened his eyes to see it there. He was almost startled by the sight of it. He looked at Nick and raised his eyebrows. Nick quickly nodded, and Wayne picked up the glass downing all of it. They sat in silence for several more minutes.

He rotated the glass between his fingers staring at it. Every so often a tear would fall into it. He inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry.” The water had done nothing to ease his pounding headache.

Nick furrowed his brow. “What!?” He spoke in a hushed tone. “Don’t you dare apologize to me. That was my fault.” He was trying very hard to prevent his voice from cracking.

“No,” Wayne said exhaustedly, rubbing his forehead, “it wasn’t. It was going to happen anyway. Today’s been.... hard.”

Nick shifted his weight. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

His hands froze. “No. You don’t,” he said accusingly. He kept his eyes on the glass. “You have no idea.”

“Wayne we’ve all been there. Me, the band... we get it.

“NO,” he spat. “You have battle fatigue. The band has battle fatigue, we’ve all got battle fatigue or whatever the fuck they’re calling it. What none of you do have is OCD.” He finally looked at Nick with tears starting to re appear in his eyes. “So you don’t get it- how could you?” His voice broke.

Nick hadn’t been prepared for this response, he was a little taken aback. “Okay maybe you’re right, I don’t get it... But I’d like to. I want to understand so I can help you. Okay? So... so what are some of your triggers?”

Wayne lost his patience.

“IT’S NOT THE SAME. Battle fatigue, OCD, they aren’t the same whatever my ‘triggers’ are are pointless because of how fucking random it is; we have triggers for battle fatigue: we hear a car backfire and we duck and cover, we see a flash of light and we jump out of our skins hell, if Jimmy sees water more than enough to fill a cup he goes fucking white, all of which throws us into a panic but OCD doesn’t work like that; it’s a never ending mental chess game so stop trying to relate will you? Just. Stop.” He took a deep breath. He stared at the carpet. He was shaking again.

Nick stared back at him with his jaw hanging open.

“I’m sorry for yelling.” Wayne quickly added. His tone was much kinder. “It’s just.... OCD is always there, ya know? Always telling me things, always showing me things; intrusive thoughts- things... I’d rather not see.” Wayne started looking all around the room, anywhere to avoid looking at Nick. “The longer I avoid doing them the worse it gets. And the images I can’t get of my head? That’s why I tic. I can’t sit still, ever, because if I did... I would just explode.” He licked his lips, finally looking at Nick. “And I’m not saying that what you and the rest of the guys go through isn’t hard, I know it is. I’m right there with ya. But this is not that. The battle fatigue nightmares show us things we’ve already seen but with OCD... it’s different. More personal- too personal. Not to mention aggressively constant, so I don’t need you pretending to understand. You can’t.”

Nick was stunned. He blinked and said, “I... don’t know what to say.” He shifted uneasily. 

“That’s a first,” Wayne scoffed and gave him a sideways look.

Nick cracked a smile that disappeared as fast as it had come. He wanted answers but didn’t know how to go about getting them. “So ah... what happened there?”

“You touched me. It tipped me over the edge- it wasn’t your fault though,” he quickly interjected seeing Nick’s face drop. “Like I said, it was bound to happen.” 

”And there’s no way to stop it?”

Wayne shook his head. The remainder of his headache returned with the sudden movement.

Nick started to look him up and down, chewing his lip in contemplation. “What does your OCD tell you?” he asked tentatively.

Wayne shut his eyes and furrowed his brow.* He bit his lip. He wrung his hands. “I-“ he cleared his throat. “I can’t talk about it. I just-*”

“Hey hey it’s okay, I get it. You don’t have to.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, eyes still closed. Several more minutes passed in silence. Neither of them knew where to go from here. Neither one looked at the other. Nick took in a slow breath.

“So pizza’s good or...?”

Wayne cracked a smile and let out a laugh. Nick laughed a little too and dropped his shoulders. He hadn’t noticed he’d been tensing them this whole time.

Wayne turned himself to face Nick. “Look,” he said beginning to wring his hands again, “my OCD is...* bad.” He took a deep breath. “I can’t know when it’s going to get bad or act up or behave for a week. That’s not how this works. I’m still learning how to cope and the tics are a part of that. Most of the time I don’t even know I’m doing them.*” He froze. “Expect that one. That one I am painfully aware of and am unfortunately unable to control it.” He jutted out his chin and looked at his hands, rubbing his palms together “

So every time your head does that thing is-“

“-an intrusive thought, yeah.*”

Nick nodded sympathetically. “Okay then. This is your battle, and I don’t want to take that away from you.” He leaned forward in an attempt to re-make eye contact. Wayne flinched and pulled back. Nick sat back up. “But you’ve got to talk to me. I know you can’t control it but at least tell me when it is bad so I can...”

“...help?” he said jokingly.

“Or just prepare. It’s hard for you to go through that but it’s hard to watch you go through it too.”

Wayne nodded. “I’m sorry you had to see that”

“Will you quit apologizing.” Nick spoke almost on top of Wayne. “It happened and it’s over. Now-“ he stood up “-are we getting pizza or not? You must be starving after that.”

Wayne stood up with him. “Yeah, just no olives.” Nick rolled his eye. “I’m going to lie down until the food gets here.” Wayne looked and sounded exhausted. All his energy was drained, and he had a sneaking suspicion he’d get more than four hours of consecutive sleep tonight. As he laid down on the couch Nick picked up the long forgotten take-out menu and took one last look at him. This was a brand new side of Wayne he’d never seen before. And he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to sit with him through every last panic attack until Wayne was strong enough to fight them alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, this was based on first hand experience with OCD. I don’t speak for everyone with OCD as it is a complex mental illness and not everyone with OCD experiences all the same symptoms. I don’t organize things like Wayne does but Wayne doesn’t aggresiely count like I do. 
> 
> I hope this helped clarify some things about OCD and I hope you all enjoyed it! Your comments always make my day. Feel free to ask questions as well!


End file.
